


Chronicles from Hogwarts

by Taarya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Potterlock, Prompt Fic, but come on it's gonna be fluff, i'm probably going to change the tags as the story continues, johnlock au, maybe some smut?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taarya/pseuds/Taarya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Prompt fic*</p><p>John and Sherlock meet at Hogwarts. Here are some random excerpts from their lives, from age 11 onwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Superishdude and Cornflowercrayon.

John Watson's family had been supportive and generally ecstatic at the idea of a boarding school where their little Johnny would feel accepted and equal to his peers, instead of different or weird, and learn to control his powers – powers that erupted during John's early childhood, much to the discomfort of his parents.

Early on, his small but unmanageable bursts of magic were welcomed with concern, after a fair number of educated-and-rational-thank-you-very-much doctors laughed off their anxiety, and suggested instead that his parents go and visit a therapist.  
That's why, upon receiving a rather uncanny letter – seemingly handwritten, wax-sealed and written on parchment instead of paper – by a so-called Ministry of Magic, which claimed to know what was happening to 9-year-old John and were willing to meet for further clarifications, Tim and Laura Watson ignored the bizarreness of the letter and agreed to meet a representative of this Ministry.

That's why a distinct man wearing a long and dark robe came into the Watsons' living room, accepted a cup of tea, shook hands with an insecure John and a inquisitive Harry and explained to the four of them what magic was. The wizard spoke calmly, smiled a lot and showed a couple of basic spells to the astonished family, but the relief at the idea that little Johnny wasn't sick nor crazy was enough to counterweight the absurdity of magic itself.  
“It's unusual for a wizard to be born from both Muggle parents, but as soon as we noticed that the phenomenon was increasing, our Ministry decided to set up a special department to explain the situation to all families before they get too worried. We track all wizards that are born every day so we can contact them as soon as their magic erupts – obviously, we try to do this before they receive their letter from a wizarding school in the area. But magic usually shows itself around age 9 or 10, as it did with you, John,” he concluded with a smile.  
“Wait, wizarding school?” John asked, speaking for the first time since the man had walked in.  
“Of course. If your parents agree, and you want to, after primary school you'll be able to attend the Hogwarts boarding school in Scotland for seven years, and then, as a legal adult, you'll be free to choose if you want to live in the wizarding or in the Muggle world.”  
Tim and Laura looked at each other, sharing a worried look. “What if he doesn't go to this school?”  
“Well, John will need to learn to control his magic, so we'd strongly suggest getting him private tutoring in addition to his Muggle education. However, that would not only be expensive, but could create discrepancies between John and his peers. On the other hand, at Hogwarts he'll meet young wizards like him and won't have to hide his powers.”  
A brief silence followed, and everyone considered the situation.  
John was stunned at the idea that he could do magic. Magic! He tried to fiddle around with his hands, hoping to move the lamp in front of him, but it only resulted in the vase nearby to shake feebly.  
“I understand this can be overwhelming.” the wizard reassured and turned to face John. “Still, you have more than a year to think about it and to choose your path. Your magic is still weak, and I'm sure you'll get better at managing it. Hiding it isn't hard if you can control your emotions.”  
John nodded and grinned. “So I'm a wizard now?”  
“You're a wizard, John.”

Sure as sunshine, after a year a letter from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came in the Watsons' mailbox, and no one had any doubts. John would study magic in Scotland.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't unusual for Muggleborns to feel lonely on the day of their arrival at Hogwarts. The ride to the castle was unbelievably...magical, but while all the wizard-born students already knew someone, maybe a neighbour or a family friend, John felt utterly and completely isolated.  
As he walked into the Great Hall, however, all his worries were momentarily forgotten: outside, the sun had set and the wind was blowing, and the ceiling depicted a perfectly identical star-lit sky with clouds moving quickly, to the point where John wondered if the room did have an actual ceiling. The area was large – at least a thousand students were sitting at four long tables – and warm. Everything seemed to be illuminated by floating candles, and a distinct, homey smell of wood surrounded John.  
All the older students were chatting and hugging each other, and ghosts flew from one place to another to greet everyone. On the other hand, the 11-year-olds were silent, out of awe, fear or anticipation – and John couldn't tell if he was feeling all three.

The Sorting ceremony was less stressful than expected: when the timidly walked up next to Professor McGonagall and sat on a wooden stool, the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, almost covering his eyes.  
“Well well well. What about you, then?” said the Hat.  
John had just witnessed at least forty Sortings, so he had a vague idea of what kind of people were linked to each House, but he didn't answer.  
“I see someone loyal,” the Hat considered. “But I also see a very adventurous young man. A fighter, maybe? No, you're too kind for your own good. I'm tempted to say Gryffindor and see what happens to you...what do you say?”  
“I don't know. I just want to meet nice people, I...I'm friendly.” John muttered, embarrassed.  
“Alright, then. _Hufflepuff_!”  
A cheer erupted from one of the tables, and John couldn't help but smile back at them.  
When he sat at the table, a blonde-haired, pale boy turned to face him. “Welcome to Hufflepuff! I'm new, too.” he said, grinning.  
“Nice to meet you, then.” John smiled. “I'm John.”  
“Edward,” he answered. “But everyone calls me Ted. Do you know anyone here already?”  
“No, I'm a...Muggle. I mean, my parents are,” John hesitated.  
Ted laughed. “Muggleborn, eh? Let me tell you, that's way better than being half-blood or whatever, and growing up with wiz–” his answer was interrupted by a lull in conversation, and they both turned to face the staff table.  
An elderly and refined woman at the teachers' table stood up, and everyone seemed to hang on her words. She spoke calmly and welcomed the students, wishing everyone a happy and productive school year.

After a short speech, the tables instantly filled up with any kind of food John could have ever imagined. Ted wasted no time, and started serving himself the closest things he could see and handed them over to John.  
“My family had told me about this dinner.” Ted explained. “I don't have friends here, either. The closest friend I have is a teacher.” he laughed.  
“Really? Who?” asked John, baffled, and turned to the teachers' table.  
“Professor Longbottom, the dark-haired one to the left,” Ted pointed. “He often comes to visit us.”  
When John turned back to face Ted, he almost let out a shout. “Your hair just turned blue! And your eyes!”  
Ted just laughed. “I'm sorry, I really wanted to do that. I'm a metamorphmagus, I inherited it from my mother.” he said. “We can change shape and colour of our bodies, but I was told she only used it to make people laugh. So that's what I do, too.”  
From that moment the conversation flowed freely between the two, and by the end of the meal John could tell he'd found a friend.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, the Prefects showed John and his housemates their common room and their dormitories. Ted jumped on and off his bed for longer than he should have, until the excitement finally wore off and decided he should sleep.  
John wished him good night with a smile, but instead of going to bed, he sat on his trunk and looked around in the semi-darkness. The room had no direct sunlight, but the windows were enchanted just like the Great Hall's ceiling, and reflected the outside weather. There were eight beds in the room, but everyone seemed to have a distinct area for themselves in a cosy four-posters bed, lit by warm copper lamps.  
John stood up and tiptoed to the common room. A girl, seemingly older than him, was sitting by the mantelpiece, petting her cat, and greeted him silently with a polite nod. The room felt hearty and safe, with its round walls and low ceiling. There was a faint scent of plants, which was quite obvious given the remarkable amount of greenery placed on the windowsills or hanging from the ceiling. Amazed, he curled up on a sofa, listening to the feeble purring of the cat and the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.  
"Do you miss your family?" asked the girl, quietly.  
"A bit, yeah," he said. “it all feels so overwhelming, you know? All this...magic.”  
“Muggleborn?” she asked knowingly, and John nodded. “Me too. You'll get used to it, trust me. But us badgers, we're loyal. You're part of this family as well now.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

The youngest wizard of the Holmes household knew all about magic.  
Although Sherlock would never admit it, it was Mycroft, his older sibling, who had taught him simple spells before he started school, and he couldn't have been more grateful.  
Given his natural curiosity, it was a logical step for him to be sorted into Ravenclaw – but to be fair, he had sort of wished to not end up in Slytherin with his brother.

After the Sorting and Professor McGonagall's brief greeting, he ate silently, lost in thought.  
The school had four houses, and students for seven school years, and given the number of 11-year-olds that were sorted with him (around 140), Sherlock quickly deduced that there were at least a thousand students in the school. Since his school schedule said he would share some classes with other houses, he imagined how messy every lesson would be. He probably needed to find a way to sit in the first row of desks in every class.  
A roaring laughter distracted him from his thoughts, and the boy focused his attention on his new housemates. He could tell who was happy to be back, who was worried, who had family in the castle and who was alone. Reading people's feelings from their faces and bodies was his main passion, although it did bring the disadvantage of making him forget about his own body, currently craving some food.

He only realized he was hungry after dinner, when all of his roommates were sound asleep in the dormitories of the high Ravenclaw tower. After contemplating what to do, he decided to walk out of his common room (only a couple of students were still awake, debating quietly over something Sherlock couldn't understand) and found himself on a corridor, standing beside the marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. He got out of his robe a Hogwarts map, a gift from his parents, and tried to find his way to the kitchens, planning to ask whoever was in there if he could get some more food before going to bed – or better yet, sneak into the kitchens.  
After too many flights of stairs and a careful avoidance of the Prefects patrolling the hallways, Sherlock reached the kitchens. There was a door concealed by some barrels and the boy knocked lightly.

After a split second, a huge splash of a sour liquid doused the boy from head to toe, and he barely suffocated a scream.  
The door in front of him opened and two students appeared on the doorway.  
“Huh,” said the girl with a smile. “First time in ages.”  
The other student was a boy who clearly was as confused as him.  
“What...is that?” asked Sherlock, running a hand through his wet hair.  
“This is the Hufflepuff basement, and we have a repelling device against intruders,” answered the girl, a hint of pride in her voice. “Making it the most secure common in all of Hogwarts.”  
“And that liquid would be..?” whispered the younger boy, aghast.  
“Pee,” she said gravely, and Sherlock's eyes shot open. “Or, you know, vinegar. Go back to bed, smartypants.” she added, hinting at his blue tie, and walked back into the basement.  
“How did she do that? She knocked just like I did!” Sherlock argued, facing the boy.  
The other shook his head. “I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Most secure common room in all of Hogwarts, didn't you hear?”  
“Of course I heard. I was just looking for the kitchens.”  
“We had, like, a huge dinner two hours ago.” the Hufflepuff pointed out.  
Sherlock looked peeved. “I forgot to eat.”  
“How can you forget to eat when there's food served right in front of you?”  
“Stop asking dumb questions.” he retorted, focusing on his dripping robe. “Well if you can't help, I'm going back to bed. I need to change my clothes.”  
The boy didn't answer and Sherlock studied him for a second.  
He had a round, slightly freckled face, and was most likely in his first year as well. His ash, dirty blond hair and tanned skin suggested his family lived by the sea – he still showed the remnants from the previous summer. He wasn't wearing a robe, but Muggle clothes, meaning he surely wouldn't know how to make any spells – let alone getting Sherlock's clothes and hair dry.  
“I can't help with what?” asked the other student, after a pause.  
“Nothing. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Hufflepuff.”  
The boy frowned. “I have a name.”  
“I can imagine that.” Sherlock sighed presumptuously and extended a hand, although it was still wet and sticky. “I'm Sherlock.”  
“John.” he answered, shaking it. “Good night.”  
“Yeah, see you around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This chapter wasn't based off of a prompt, but I needed it to introduce characters and setting.  
> If you have any headcanons you want me to write, send a prompt my way either here or on my tumblr (taarya)!  
> Many many thanks to my betas Kay and Rachael.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Superishdude and Cornflowercrayon.

The crisp autumn weather filled Hogwarts and its surroundings with an increasingly warmer range of colours; the leaves turned orange, the courtyard was a vivid shade of chestnut, and pumpkins, following tradition, were more and more common during meals.

The Hufflepuff common room made no exception – Professor Sprout had made sure to bring autumn-themed specimens from the Herbology greenhouses into the basement.

 

That's what John noticed after an idle day studying outside of the castle with Sherlock. As it turned out, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had a lot of classes in common, so when John and Ted saw Sherlock constantly alone, they had gladly started to sit next to him in class, despite John's rocky start with the boy.

At the moment, they were sprawled out on a stretch of crunchy leaves, both busy doing their Potions homework – or, better yet, Sherlock was diligently listing a vast number of ingredients on his parchment, and John was lazily trying to copy off of his messy handwriting.

 

When the two of them finally managed to finish up their work, the boys laid on their backs, watching the sun surrounded by a quiet bustle of white, fleecy clouds.

John turned and shot a sidelong glance at Sherlock. The Ravenclaw boy was as tall as John, but had a gaunt face and ungainly stance, enhanced by his thick robe – he probably was the only student who wore the school uniform after class. The blond looked away upon hearing a distant sound of steps, and Sherlock rolled over to see who was approaching.

“It's just a teacher, but he's new and probably lost at the moment.” He stated. “He wants to be respected so he won't come to us to ask for help. And I think...I think he teaches Muggle studies.”

“How do you know that?” asked John, bewildered.

Sherlock shrugged. “I notice things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be a detective.” He explained simply. “Do you want to go back in? It's getting breezy out here.”

 

* * *

 

“So, you can figure out stuff about people?” John asked while they were walking back into the castle.

“I'm learning,” Sherlock corrected. “People let out more than they want and they don't even know.”

“Why do you want to know things about people?”

“For the same reason you keep asking me questions,” he retorted, but tilted his head towards him with a playful smile. “Because I'm curious. And if I know someone's life, I can understand if I can trust them.”

John nodded, satisfied with the answer, and kept walking along a hallway.

“Hey,” said Sherlock after a moment. “Have you ever played Wizard's chess?”

“I don't think so. Is it different from normal chess?”

Sherlock shook his head. “You mean Muggle chess? It's pretty different. Would you like to give it a go?”

John accepted and they both walked up to Sherlock's common room. The Hufflepuff couldn't wrap his head around any of the riddles asked by the eagle knocker, but Sherlock answered each and every one within seconds.

“ _A natural state, I'm sought by all.  
_ _Go without me, and you shall fall.  
_ _You do me when you spend,  
_ _and use me when you eat to no end.”_ the eagle said.

John looked puzzled, but Sherlock pensively closed his eyes. He opened his mouth but then changed his mind, seemingly lost in thought once again.

“Balance!” he said, clearly, and with a soft creak the door to the common room opened.

 

The tower was no different than usual – John had been in there enough times to get acquainted with its majestic appearance – but its silent grandeur was a long way from the Hufflepuff's homey and intimate furnishing.

The room was circular and airy, with large windows all around the room that guaranteed a view of the school grounds – John could even see the Quidditch pitch and the Herbology gardens. A couple of students in the room were walking barefoot, their footsteps muffled by a blue carpet.

Sherlock walked his way up to his dormitory to get his chess set, while John sat on a sofa placed in front of a low table, his eyes glued to the ceiling. It was enchanted to show a detailed star map – probably the reason why, just like Hufflepuffs excelled at Herbology, Ravenclaws were skilled in Astronomy.

 

When Sherlock came back, he sat in front of his friend and placed the set between them. He pointed his wand towards the minuscule statues scattered on the board. “ _Locomotor ordem._ ” he said, and all pieces fell into place.

“Okay, the rules are the same. You make a move, every piece type moves differently, the point of the game is to checkmate.”

“Then how is it different from Muggle chess?”

“Well, the pieces are sentient. They know if the player is bad or unreliable and they won't necessarily follow orders,” Sherlock explained. “This chess set was my brother's, but they didn't trust him, so he gave it to me.”

“Alright then. White still moves first, right?”

“Sure. It's my turn, then. Pawn to B3,” he called, and the piece moved.

“Pawn to G6” The pawn seemed to consider the voice commanding him, and eventually agreed to listen – John half-laughed at this reaction.

“Rook to A3”

“Knight to A6” The piece looked more confident than the former, and shifted quickly.

“Rook to A6” Sherlock retorted, taking advantage of John's lack of attention.

Sherlock's rook moved up to square A5, then floated above the knight and smashed itself against it, shattering the statue to bits.

Sherlock's eyes looked up from the board to look at John, who appeared utterly terrified, and couldn't suppress a smile. “That's the other difference from Muggle chess,” he laughed.

“I can see that!” John exclaimed. “You don't use a new chess set every time, do you?”

Sherlock gathered the fragments out of the board and pointed his wand towards them. “ _Reparo_ ,” he said, and the knight went back to its original form.

“I keep forgetting that we have magic.” John said, shaking his head. “Alright, then! My turn now.”

 

By the time the game ended, the sun had set and it was almost time for dinner. People had come and went, livening up the room with a soft, upbeat chatter, but all loud noises seemed to be absorbed by the cerulean walls.

To be fair, Sherlock's victory didn't come as a surprise to either of the boys. Although the Ravenclaw admitted that John had played respectably enough, the Hufflepuff still asked for a return match the following day, and left the dorm to go and shower before dinner.

Now sitting alone on the couch, Sherlock looked up at the ceiling and silently tried to locate the constellations he could see in spring – helped by excluding the ones he could see at the moment above his head.

“Do you trust him now?” a voice asked, not far from him.

The boy came back to reality and scrutinised the girl who had talked. She had a plain face and muddy brown hair, looked to be 11 and had surely had no previous conversations with Sherlock.

“Who the hell are you, and did Mycroft send you?” he asked, defensively.

“I'm Molly, and I don't know who that is. I just think you must have a hard time trusting anyone, if you had to play Wizard's chess with a boy you've known for more than a month.”

“Maybe. Have you been spying on me?”

“No,” she mumbled. “I just noticed that you...you seem lonely.”

“Why do you care?” Sherlock was genuinely puzzled. The girl was easy enough to read, but he couldn't figure out why she would notice him and approach him in such a direct way.

“I'm just curious.”

“Mycroft sent you.” He repeated.

“Maybe. Do you trust John now?”

“Maybe. Please do send my brother my regards.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sherlock inviting John to play Wizard's Chess to see if he's trustworthy. (submitted by SherlockedPotterheadInTheTardis)
> 
> If you have a prompt, please send it my way either here or on my tumblr (taarya)!  
> Thanks for reading and many many thanks to my betas Kay and Rachael.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Superishdude.

“Wait, you know Potter? _That_ Potter?”

It was a short haired, brawny built Gryffindor who had talked. Ted was ranting about the ups and downs of his extended family to John and Sherlock, while sitting under a porch in the chilly winter air.

It was unusually sunny outside, and many students had made the most out of it. It appeared that half the school had brought their homework outside of the study halls, so it was no surprise to have someone sitting close enough to overhear conversations.

Ted turned and smiled at the boy. “Yeah, he's my godfather.”

The boy looked stunned and gestured towards the three students, wordlessly asking to sit with them. John gathered his stuff and immediately moved to the side to let him sit. Sherlock, on the other hand, switched to full-on deduction mode.

“I'm sorry to intrude,” he said. “I'm Greg.” Everyone shook hands quickly and introduced themselves – although Sherlock did need a nudge from John before reacting.

“We all know about Harry Potter, I mean,” the Gryffindor continued. “But in my house, no one ever stops mentioning him. We'll get to the point where people won't even believe he's real.”

Ted laughed. “My first friend here was oh-so-blissfully ignorant about it.” He said, tilting his head towards John.

“Hey!” He objected. “I didn't even know about magic, let alone your heroic family.”

Greg laughed with John for a second and turned back to Ted. “It must be cool, though, having him for a godfather. Do you get to see him often?”

“Well, I live with him, so yeah.” Ted half-smiled.

“Really? What ab-”

Sherlock cut Greg off before he could finish his sentence. “He's Ted Lupin. His parents were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, they died in the battle of Hogwarts and he barely got to meet them. Of course he lives with his godfather, he's his legal guardian.”

There were a few seconds of silence in the group, but Sherlock looked rather at ease.

“I...I never told you my parents' names.” Ted started, uncertain.

“Ted, your family's history is written in our school textbooks.” he retorted.

The Hufflepuff shrugged, but his hair ends turned a faint shade of pink. “Alright, I guess that's true.”

John quickly looked at Greg. “What about you, then?”

“Well, all I can think of at the moment is that I'm the new chaser for Gryffindor.”

“Woah, that's impressive! You look young for Quidditch – no offence intended.” Ted remarked with a smile.

“No, you're right, I'm-”

Sherlock interrupted him again. “In your second year, you're half-blood, older brother and your pet is most likely a frog. Oh, and your parents are from South West England.”

Greg stared at him, at a loss. “I'm actually a pureblood, but...how did you guess the rest?”

“By being rude.” John explained before he could speak. “I'm really sorry. He does that with everyone.”

“Also, I have the faculty of talking on my own initiative, thank you very much, John.” Sherlock turned to face the Gryffindor. “I deduce things. Pureblood? Are you sure?”

Greg shot him a quizzical look, but seemed amused. “I believe I know my family.”

“Shame.”

“So, what are you guys doing for Christmas break?” Ted asked. “It's almost December now.”

John smiled fondly. “I'll be home with my family. They'll want to know everything about this place. I mean, we talk often, but actually seeing each other...it'll be fun.”

“I'm going on holiday with my family,” Greg said. “We're actually trying out some Muggle winter sports. My mum loves that kind of thing. What about you, Ted? Sherlock?”

“Potter household.” the Hufflepuff answered, but lost the thread of the conversation. “John, are you cold? You're shivering.”

John hesitated – he actually was cold. He had doltishly underestimated the weather, and his coat wasn't thick enough to keep him warm, but he was used to keep the whining for himself. Before he could even nod, however, Sherlock reacted.

“Here, keep my scarf, I'm alright anyways.” he said, and wrapped his woolly blue scarf tightly around John's neck.

“Well...thank you, Sherlock,” John beamed. “Are you sure you don't need it?”

“Not right now, no.” he answered flatly, but unable to conceal a smile that matched John's.

“What about your Christmas break?”

Sherlock sighed. “I think I'll be with my family, as usual, although I really don't want to see my brother.”

“Wait, you have a brother?” Ted asked.

“Yes, he's a fifth-year Slytherin. But I really rather not talk about him.”

“Your brother is in school and we never even saw him?”

“No.” Sherlock said dryly.

There was a general silence when John suddenly lit up. “What if you came to my place for the holidays? If your parents let you, obviously.”

Sherlock was startled. “Really? I mean, your family will want to see you and...”

“Come on! They'll be happy to meet a friend of mine. I mean, a wizard friend.”

The boy was quiet for a second before offering a tentative smile. “I'll ask my parents.”

 

* * *

 

By the time the Christmas break approached, Greg had grown closer to the first-years. The trip back to London was a constant chatter between the four of them – even Sherlock was talkative, feeling upbeat because of his upcoming “Muggle-trip”, as he'd started to call it – and the goodbyes were genuine and good-natured.

John, on the other hand, was more and more regretful for inviting Sherlock to his place. His house was the most boring and ordinary place in the entire universe, let alone for a wizard. It was a simple middle-class home, for a middle-class family with two kids and a dog, and all John could think of was the idea of seeing his friend's expectations crumble before his eyes as soon as he walked into the house. Not to mention, Sherlock family's was definitely wealthier than John's. Although the Ravenclaw boy hid it as much as possible, it was clear that his upbringing had been more comfortable than the majority of the students at Hogwarts.

That's why, when Sherlock greeted his parents with a polite smile (Sherlock could be polite? Really?) and climbed on their parent's car looking happier than ever, John was disoriented but slowly started to calm down.

Although that wasn't the moment John's face softened. That part happened later, after both boys had settled their luggage, a makeshift bed had been set up for John –it was decided that Sherlock would sleep in John's bed–, Sherlock and Harry introduced each other and exchanged questioning looks, and the boys were asked to go downstairs for dinner.

The Holmes boy hadn't had many chances to examine every Muggle item he could see, so it was only when he sat at the kitchen table that he could take a proper look around.

“Excuse me, Mister Watson?” he called, quietly.

The man looked up from the kitchen counter. “Please, boy, call me Tim.” he answered with a smile, although impressed by his manners.

“What does that do?” Sherlock pointed towards the object he was holding.

“This?” the man laughed and shot an amused glance towards his wife. “It's just an egg beater.”

“It...beats eggs?”

Tim paused and turned to his son, but only received an ill-concealed laughter in response. Harry looked genuinely concerned for the boy, but didn't say a word.

“Yes, Sherlock, it beats eggs.” he finally answered, with a polite smile.

“And how does it work?”

Laura sat at the table next to him and spoke kindly. “Well, it's got a battery inside that gives it energy, the beaters spin quickly and beat the eggs in a couple of seconds.”

Sherlock's eyes widened in utter amazement and that was the moment John's face finally softened.

 

* * *

 

 

After a home-cooked dinner and almost twenty questions asked by Sherlock regarding every electric appliance in the room, both boys walked upstairs and changed into their pyjamas.

When Sherlock shimmied under the covers, John heard him sigh contentedly.

“Thanks for inviting me here, John.” he whispered.

“You're welcome,” John chuckled quietly. “I had never seen you this curious.”

“Muggle technology is unbelievable. You can do practically anything with no spells!”

“I don't see how that's better.”

“How can you not notice how amazing that is? Us wizards, we don't have to do anything. Magic does it all for us and no one ever had to–” Sherlock's enthusiastic voice was rising and John stopped him.

“Not the time to start a proper conversation,” he said.

“Alright.” Sherlock answered, and smiled in the darkness.

“So, what's with you and your brother?” John asked.

“I thought you said no proper conversations.”

“I didn't want to get you started on wizard history.”

“Alright then. He's a douche, and he spies on me. He befriended a Ravenclaw girl in order to keep his eyes on me even in my common room.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Cause he's a douche?”

John snorted. “And what does he do with every news he's got on you? Does he tell your parents?”

“No, not really. I think he just likes to control me.”

“Maybe he wants to protect you.”

“I really doubt that.”

There was a brief silence. “Have you heard from your parents?”

“They'll send me a letter tomorrow, that's for sure, so I'll send their owl back with some kind of greeting.”

“Are they nice enough?”

“Yes and no. Like every parent, I guess.” Sherlock paused. “Yours are cool.”

“I wouldn't say that. But I like them.”

The boys were silent for a minute.

“John?”

Sherlock got no answer, and heard his friend's slow and regular breathing. “John?” He whispered again. “I'm glad we're friends.”

 

* * *

 

 

Christmas morning brought a chipper atmosphere in the Watson home. Every child in the room seemed to have received several presents and dozens of cards from various relatives.

Sherlock was hesitant when he saw the shiny wrapped boxes with his name on it.

“Hey, are you okay?” John asked, lowering his voice so that his sister and parents wouldn't hear.

Sherlock crossed his legs on the carpeted floor. “Yeah, I was just thinking. I've never gotten more than one or two presents, and those were from my parents and relatives.”

“What about now?” John peeked with a smile. There was a gift from him, one from Ted, one from Greg and two from the Holmes family. Even John's parents had thought of him, as Sherlock noticed when he saw a present covered in undeniably Muggle wrapping paper, with little drawings of a red-clothed, white-bearded fat man.

The dark-haired boy lifted that box first, and looked up at John's parents, standing in the doorway – one eye on the children, one on the breakfast they were setting up.

“You didn't have to do this,” Sherlock almost apologized. “You're already having me here...and I didn't even think of anything for you.” He admitted with a frown.

Laura laughed sweetly. “Don't worry, we're big enough. And your parents sent us a lovely card, along with a gorgeous enchanted painting. Your parents have great taste.”

Sherlock smiled shyly. “Alright then, thank you.”

“Come on now, open up!”

The sound of wrapping paper being torn off made Sherlock smile with anticipation and John paused to see what his parents had bought for his friend.

The Ravenclaw's eyes lit up when he saw a small device, small enough to grasp it firmly with his entire hand, with a couple of buttons on it.

“It's a laser pointer,” Tim explained. “You probably can do the same with your wand, but we thought you'd like it. Try to press a button, and point upwards.”

Sherlock did as told and saw a thin beam of a red light going all the way up to the ceiling. “Can I point as far as I want with this?” he asked, ecstatic.

“Up to the stars, probably.” Laura confirmed.

The boy shook his head in disbelief and grinned. “It's amazing, thank you.”

 

The entire morning and ensuing lunch were lively and upbeat. Sherlock seemed to have run out of questions about Muggle domestic appliances, and was deep in conversation with John.

The Ravenclaw discovered how Muggles also had Christmas crackers, although the surprises were noticeably different. The fact that John's parents cooked every meal with no aid from elves or magic was still unbelievable to him, but he was profoundly fascinated by a so-called dishwasher, whose denomination was inappropriate anyways since it also washed glasses and cutlery, and seemed to dry everything off as well.

And eventually, when after a week he thought he'd seen it all, he was once again surprised by Muggle fireworks on New Year's Eve.

“This is amazing.” He whispered quietly, standing in a park next to John, noses up in the air.

John turned towards Sherlock and wrapped his coat tighter around himself. “Yeah, it really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pureblood Sherlock spending Christmas with John’s muggle family and being absolutely fascinated by all of the mundane things like egg beaters and televisions and vacuum cleaners (submitted by MindPalaceOfVersailles)
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> Send my way any prompts you might have! Do it here or on tumblr (taarya) or wherever.  
> I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks for reading!


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